


where secrets lie

by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)



Series: Red Right Hand 'verse [1]
Category: Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Polar (2019), Trial & Retribution (TV)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Duncan has a soft spot for sex workers and so do we, Face-Fucking, M/M, Not one of the two MCs no worries, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rentboys, Somebody gets shot, Spanking, duncan vizla/roberto bellini - Freeform, fucking in general, gonna keep it that way, murder puppy Roberto, never seen Trial and Retribution, not graphic, roberto bellini makes a good prostitute i don't make the rules, this is pre-Polar in case you're wondering why no eyepatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 02:02:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_safe/pseuds/gleamingandwholeanddeadly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/printersdevils
Summary: Duncan meets the most interesting people on the job. Sometimes they even survive.





	where secrets lie

**Author's Note:**

> This was our second try at a Polar fic. The first one didn't work out so well, but Duncan is verrrrrry inspirational so try, try again we did. We might to come back to this pairing again because they were really fun to write. Ennnnjoy!
> 
> -L. and Deadly

It's an easy job; a setup he's used a dozen times. Dress up as maintenance, write off a room near the target, wait for the perfect moment. This won't be any different. The hotel room is swanky enough that Duncan can help himself to the tiny scotch in the minibar; smoke a cigarette on the balcony and watch the movement through the open French doors of the next room.

Listen, too. Hard to avoid. Someone's having themselves a good time. Duncan rolls his eyes and checks the safety's off, then slips over the balcony edge and moves silently to the open door.

"Hold on," a young, sultry voice purrs from inside. "I've got a little toy or two for that." He hears a zipper open, and slips through the door while the mark is distracted, shooting him neatly in the forehead where he sprawls in wait against the pillows. Then he trains the barrel on the prostitute.

"Hands where I can see them."

"Fucking hell." He throws his hands up, flushed and sweat-glossed suddenly turning to pale and clammy. "God, please don't shoot."

"Don't give me a reason."  
  
The boy tilts his head delicately toward the sitting room, accent crisp and British, steady despite his obvious nervousness. "There's a bodyguard in there, you know."

"Don't move," Duncan tells him, moving swiftly to the door; kicking it open and shooting the guard quickly. Then he swivels his gaze back to the boy. He's still standing stock still, naked and with his brows cocked.

"What now, mystery man with the gun?"

"You get dressed, and come with me," Duncan tells him, starting to unbutton his maintenance boiler. He keeps the gun in his hand, not entirely trusting the look in the boy's eyes. As he sees Duncan's formal suit emerge from the thick cotton coverall, though, understanding seems to dawn.  
  
"I suppose not shooting me is more than generous payment for enjoying my company," he muses.

"Shut up, get dressed," Duncan repeats.

The boy complies, with enough speed that Duncan doesn't feel the need to snap at him. "Guess you won't tell me your name," he says as he pulls a black sweater over his head.

"You don't need to know it."

"I'll tell you mine." He steps into a pair of skinny jeans. He's not the classiest rent boy Duncan has ever seen, but his leather jacket and the curl of his lip still gives it away plenty. "It's Roberto, since you asked," he says silkily when Duncan glowers in silence.

"Great. You're my cover out of here, let's go." He waves the boy to the door, tucking his gun away once they're in the hallway and wrapping an arm around the slim waist.

Roberto doesn't seem to need much help getting comfortable in the role. He tips his head back to look up at Duncan. "Where to, Mister?" he purrs. "Got someplace in mind?"

It could be ridiculous, with his accent, his babyface - his ill-fitting, probably made up name. It's oddly endearing.

"I've got a place," Duncan says, leading them into the elevator.

Roberto is clearly a smart boy; he plays the part well, leaning into Duncan's side and playing with his shirt buttons.

"There's no one else in here," Duncan points out.

"I'm method, darling." He sighs. "Or did you not take out the cameras?"

Duncan did, in fact, but Roberto doesn't need to know that, or to stop skimming his fingers between the buttons of Duncan's shirt.

He shakes his head. "No."

"The old fashioned way, all right," Roberto shrugs. "How far are we walking?"

"We're getting a cab."

With that, the elevator doors open, and Duncan walks them out into the lobby. Roberto hangs on him like a needy child; pulls his face down and presses kisses to the corners of his mouth and his chin as they walk to the entrance doors, chattering animatedly about everything and nothing. Duncan allows it, stroking his hair back for authenticity. He keeps one hand near his gun, scanning the sidewalk for danger as they get outside into the teeming dark, the lights of the city around them reaching to the sky.

"Okay," he mutters, leading Roberto to the sidewalk, "flag a cab, please."

The boy pulls back far enough to do so, and it's only seconds before one pulls up. "Where to, handsome?" Roberto asks.

Duncan gives the driver the address for his hotel. "Go via the park, please," he murmurs.

"What happens at the park?"

 _I see if we've been followed._ "I enjoy a quiet ride with my boy," Duncan rumbles.

Despite the strangeness of the situation, Roberto's smile seems genuine. He could, of course, be an incredible actor. But he seems to have a high regard for the integrity of his own skin, and a good head on his shoulders. Not to mention an apparent lack of moral compass; he'd barely blinked when the man he'd been fucking had ended with his brains across the pillows. In fact, he'd happily pointed Duncan in the direction of the next exploding head.

Duncan can respect that.

At the park, Roberto leans over him to peer out the window at a colorful fairground that's opened up in the park, hand purposefully sliding high up his thigh. Duncan had intended to offer to drop him off. He truly had.

"You know," Roberto purrs, "you should really let me thank you for being so good to me at the hotel."

"You could have made a fuss in the lobby," Duncan says slowly.

"I can still make a fuss now."

Interesting threat, that. Duncan eyes the oblivious cabbie. "And if I take you upstairs at my hotel?"

"I can make a fuss of _you_."

"And your going rate?"  
  
"Waived. I'd still accept a tip if you felt particularly well-served."

"Generous of you."

One pale finger trails down his buttons. "I'm very generous."

Duncan sighs, and then shrugs. "Okay."

"Enthusiastic," the boy taunts softly.

"No incentive, yet."

"You have seen me naked," he retorts. Duncan can't help but smile at the peevishness in his voice. Roberto catches him doing it. "You seemed to like it," he points out.

"What was there to dislike?"

"Some people don't, no accounting for taste is there?"

"I might need some convincing."

"How about a sample?" He grins, something undeniably _slinky_ about it.

Duncan leans back in the seat, looking him over. "Go on."

The press of Roberto's lips against his is anything but sweet. He's too practiced for that. But he is a warm, lithe presence in a cold mindscape. His hand slips against Duncan's inseam and he palms gently, a little noise escaping him like he's the one being touched. Duncan makes room between his thighs, watching the boy's hands, not his face. He's decided to trust him, but Duncan's trust only ever goes so far.

"Relax," Roberto mutters, "I'm not much of a fighter."

"You can see where I might be concerned," Duncan murmurs. He shivers when Roberto tips his head to lick a tantalizing path down his throat.

"Please, I'm built like a twig."

"Nothing wrong with your build."

"No? You like it?"

"I seem to."

Roberto cups him through his slacks with a salacious little noise of delight. "You do."

"Are you really pleased about that or is this part of the service?"

"It's a life or death situation, so you tell me."

"We'll play it by ear," Duncan murmurs.

Roberto's tongue curls against the shell of his ear in tandem like a secret, trailing needy kisses as he palms his cock. Duncan leans into the corner of the seat and allows it, one eye still watching their progress through the park. It's decidedly not bad. The boy smells like some sort of spicy cologne, with a whiff of acid from his sweat. His mouth is almost obscenely soft.

As they get further from the kill site without pursuit, Duncan allows himself to relax incrementally more. Roberto feels it, and seems to slink even closer, the space between them shrinking. "Nearly there?"

"Yes, nearly."

Roberto kisses his mouth again, nearly demanding. "Made up your mind?"

"Much more than nearly."

"What's your answer?"

"I want to see all your tricks, little one."

That makes Roberto smile, wide and sly. It makes Duncan think of his indifference to murder again; his curious lack of concern. He considers, briefly, that Roberto may have psychopathic tendencies. In any case, his approval is worth cultivating.

They finally arrive at the hotel, and Duncan gestures Roberto inside and toward the elevator. The view from behind him is as excellent as predicted, and the ride up to his room is as tactile as the one from before, but it's not as irritating as Duncan normally finds these kinds of things. Roberto nearly manages to make his smile reach his eyes.

At the door to his suite, Duncan pauses, then lets him in reluctantly. "Take your clothes off. Shake out the pockets."

Roberto raises a brow. "I sense you don't mean that in a sexy way."

At the answering silence, he sighs and takes off his jacket; empties the pockets onto the coffee table. He does the same with his shoes, jeans, sweater and even his shorts.

"Now your bag," Duncan instructs, watching him closely.

There's not much in it. Condoms, lube, a few unoriginal sex toys. Pills, probably Viagra and E if Duncan had to guess. A practical but unexceptional lockback knife. He picks it up.

"Self-defense?"

"A boy can't be too careful these days."

Duncan flicks it out. "It needs sharpening."

"Well, would you rather get out your whetstone or your dick, Daddy? Because I'm sensing you're on a timetable."

Duncan looks at him, suddenly close and reaching to start sliding his suit jacket off. He holds up a hand to stop him; carefully removes the jacket and his shoulder holster himself.

"Kind of like it, y'know." Roberto fingers the leather absently before Duncan sets it aside.

"You're not alone in that." He looks Roberto over. "'Daddy?'" he quotes back at him.

"I've got issues," Roberto says, facetiously. "Besides, you still haven't told me your name. A boy has to have something to moan."

"You seem to have found a solution," Duncan shrugs, watching Roberto start to unbutton his shirt.

"I'm creative." He punctuates it by leaning in to lick a stripe over Duncan's larynx. "Tell me what you want. I won't be shocked."

"I think you'll find me quite boring, Roberto."

"Do you want to go slow then?" He grins. "Missionary? Five minutes of mediocre oral?"

"Mediocre on whose part?" Duncan rumbles.

"It takes two to make sex exceptional."

"Does it?" Finally stripped down to his boxers, he moves swiftly to pin Roberto to the wall by the bed with a hand around his throat. Then he leans in to taste him.

"Oh," it's soft and shocked, though not displeased. Duncan feels his larynx bob under his palm; a shiver runs through him. He feels delicate, like this. Not a fighter? He's not sure he believes it. Nothing more dangerous than a cornered animal. "Are you going to hurt me?" he asks Duncan, half sounding like a dare, no fear there.

"Would you like me to?"

"Would you like to?" He glances down at the veined muscle of Duncan's arm; swallows again.

"I asked first. I suppose there's an extra set of rules about that, though."

"The only rule is you let me go when you're finished."

"With no permanent damage, I assume." Duncan has switched to stroking over the boy's carotid with his knuckles, the other hand dipping to the jut of his hipbone.

"A tip would be good manners, if I'm to be irrevocably altered."

"That would be a disservice to your beauty, boy."

"So sweet when you talk to me like I'm a piece of art."

"You are." It's worth being more forthcoming to see him genuinely preen.

"So _admire me_ ," he goads.

Duncan obligingly dips his head to taste one perfect pink nipple. His hand stays at the base of his throat, tethering as Roberto's body bridges off the wall. He bites the tightening peak as a warning - no sudden movements.

"Nn, harder," Roberto breathes.

Duncan ignores it and trails his mouth to the other one instead, fingers finding the first and pinching. He sees Roberto's hands spread against the wall, tension showing in his arms at the conflicting urge to pull away and encourage the pain. "Does that turn you on, Roberto?" he murmurs.

"God, yes."

He slides a hand into the boy's hair to pull him closer as he straightens, kissing him fiercely. His satisfied little moan is too smug to be anything but genuine. Duncan switches directions, pushes him face down on the bed instead in one smooth throw. Roberto seems practiced at shock absorption, rearranging himself quickly and arching his hips, tucking his hands beneath his chest for leverage. He turns his head to watch Duncan and wets his lips.

"Which part do you want to taste next?"

Duncan swats lightly at his nearest cheek. "Perhaps it's your turn."

"Well," he licks his lips, "just tell me where you'd like me to lick."

Duncan reaches for the waistband of his boxers; drops them; nudges them away with his foot. Then he kneels carefully on the mattress, running fingers through Roberto's long curls, caught by the sky in his eyes for a moment.

"Mm, just as good as I imagined," he murmurs.

"You had your hand on me earlier," Duncan points out.

"You think I forgot? Fuck my mouth."

"Open wide." Duncan gathers a handful of hair and pulls. He takes himself in hand; presses against Roberto's lips, watching them smear against the head before he pulls him onto his cock in one smooth motion. The soft, vulnerable gulping sound his throat makes is irresistibly dirty. But he takes him deep, with no apparent effort, eyelashes fluttering. The tunnel of his throat feels endless and searing and wet.

Duncan strokes a finger along his soft cheek, then sets the heel of his hand against his jaw and holds as he thrusts forward. He feels more than hears Roberto moan, but his hand grasping gently at his thigh is unexpectedly gentle. Duncan concentrates on the sensation, filthy in contrast with the way his face turns up sweetly.

Every few strokes, Roberto swallows, lips already flushed and glistening pink, everything wet and warm. Duncan feels the arousal crawl though his veins like molasses. It's a familiar kind of divine, but Roberto looks like nothing he's ever seen before, from his soft-sharp features to the long, pale curve of his body.

"You're lovely," he tells him again. "Gives me ideas."

A curious little noise at that, those pretty blue eyes flashing his way.

"You'll ride me next," Duncan tells him.

He feels the buzz of another moan; Roberto's jaw slacking a little at the words. He's already imagining it, the boy like a Greek marble, back arching from the force of their thrusts. The way his hair will move, full of life, every muscle straining. Duncan will leave nail marks in his thighs. That will be lovely too. At the thought, he knuckles the hair under his fingers tighter, letting his hips rock, never quite rough. Just on the edge.

Roberto's fingernails prickle at his thigh delicately as he sucks with more enthusiasm, body moving with his rhythm, breaths rushed and moans damp and muffled. Finally, Duncan pulls him off. His lips pop obscenely, spit-shiny, stringing silvery strands of fluid.

"Five minutes already?" he quips, voice choked.

"Will you force me to call it mediocre?"

"Give me your verdict, darling."

"Skilled," Duncan murmurs.

"Leave me a good review on Yelp, right?"

Duncan snorts. He taps him under the chin to urge him up on his knees, hearing his teeth click .

"So gentle," the boy snarks.

"You told me to hurt you."

"That didn't hurt at all, Daddy."

"Just sit up," Duncan mutters.

Roberto pushes himself up, pink-cheeked and breathing slightly fast. Duncan notes as if from a distance that he's actually hard, as if he's enjoying this and not merely servicing him. That, or a better actor than first anticipated. Either way, he's pushing Duncan down to get comfortable before he hops up to get a couple of things from where his belongings are still piled on the coffee table.

"Here we are," he says, slinking back onto Duncan's lap with great fanfare and presenting him with his wares.

Duncan raises a brow. "Go on."

He watches as Roberto rips open a rubber and smooths it down his length in one practiced motion. The lube he uncaps he takes more time with, twisting his hand to spread it on and caress alike. Duncan arches, just a little, and Roberto flashes him that sly smile.

"That feel good?"

"I'm sure you know it does."

"I love this stern act, y'know, you're a pro." He kisses him soft and consuming.

That makes two of them. Duncan winds a hand back into his hair and pulls his head back to suck at his neck. "Get on my cock now," he tells him, firmly.

"Anything for you, Daddy." The boy bites his lip and shifts, using his hand to line them up. He's careful but controlled as he rocks, letting Duncan slide against him a few times before he presses down with more purpose.

Duncan bites back his groan at the feeling of his body stretching to take in his head, the sudden slide of enveloping heat, sheathing and engulfing. He slides in easy, tight, and Roberto tips his head back with a low hiss.

"Christ, you're big." He wriggles; sinks down further. "God. _Fuck_."

"I'd like to," Duncan murmurs, gripping his small hips in his hands.

He waits until Roberto braces himself, one hand on Duncan's thigh, the other on the headboard before he nods and lifts up on his knees to let him snap up into the pull of his body. Duncan doesn't hold back. He can't; he has to obey the call in every cell to keep pushing up.

"Holy fuck," Roberto gasps, knuckles white. Duncan growls deep in his chest, fingers pressing bruises into his skin. "Oh god - fuck, that's it, Daddy," he drops his chin down, shifting again, spreading his knees, "more, _more_." He grinds down with his hips, finding a brutal rhythm with Duncan's thrusts. "Jesus Christ," Roberto breathes, "wow, I must have done something good to deserve this karma."

"Did you?" Duncan grits.

"Mm, I can't think of anything off the top of my head."

"Maybe it's bad karma. I'm not someone people - really want to know -" Duncan gasps slightly, stomach muscles clenching.

"But your cock," a crude little grin curls at the corner of his mouth, sweaty hooks of his hair falling into jewel bright eyes as he snaps his hips down again with a groan, "fucking worth it."

"Is this like how your ass," Duncan shoots back, "is worth your attitude?"

"You tell me, Daddy." He leans down for a kiss, and Duncan slaps his ass sharply, leaving Roberto moaning in surprise instead. "God, you're right, you suck," he mutters, mouthing at Duncan's throat instead as he bucks down. Duncan digs his nails into his thighs and snatches him down harder to make him yelp.

"Liar."

"Turn me over," Roberto pants, "let me feel how fast you can give it to me."

Duncan grabs the back of his curls again, pulling him off his cock and pressing him into the mattress. He shifts over him; flips him onto his stomach. Roberto arches his spine obediently.

He looks as debauched as Duncan could imagine, sweat-misted, nail marked, devastatingly beautiful when he peers at him over his shoulder and whispers, "You going senile, darling? Gonna fuck it or just look at it?"

Duncan gives him a matching handprint on the other ass cheek. Then he grips his flesh; spreads him as he presses back inside his hole, gritting his teeth at the moan Roberto gives. He still feels molten, tight.

"God, so good, faster."

He's not sure he wants it to be over so soon. He presses deeper instead, harder, pulling Roberto back into the motions. Keeps them steady but deep. He watches Roberto's fingers curl into the sheets; the muscles in his back and thighs shift. He's lovely, even with - especially with - red blooming on his skin. He follows the impulse to lean down and bite at the flesh of his shoulder.

Roberto pushes into it, moaning. "Make sure to give me something to remember you by," he whispers.

Duncan bites harder. His little, strangled cry is almost as good as the shuddering clench of his body. Duncan thrusts harder, tongue working at the ragged edges. When he slips his hand down to touch, Roberto is already touching himself, just teasing at the head of his cock in the narrow gap between his hips and the bed.

"You like this," Duncan growls, hips snapping fast.

"You think I'd be in the game if I didn't like playing it?" Roberto laughs breathily. "I'm young, I'm gorgeous, I have options."

Duncan thought he had options once, too. He bites again and pistons his hips faster until he hears the deep whines vibrating through the boy.

"Holy fuck," he whispers, voice muffled when he turns his mouth into his arm, "oh _God_..."

Duncan thrusts a few more times, shaky with the crushing pressure growing in the pit of his stomach; a clawing, animal need. Characteristically silent, he feels a cry building in his throat. He grips Roberto tighter; pushes harder, smearing his cheek against the space between his shoulder blades. He pushes into him until he feels himself spill. It's easy to be rough; to fuck Roberto hard enough through it that he hears his voice go high. Then he feels him clench and shake; his hand moving faster beneath them.

"Fuck," Duncan mutters into Roberto's skin.

"Yeah, Daddy," he slurs back. "That was... mmh. Perfect."

"Flattering," Duncan drawls. He slips out of him; gets up to snap the condom off into the bathroom bin and to wash up quickly. When he enters the room again, Roberto has rolled over but hasn't otherwise moved. He looks entirely relaxed, languidly stretched out, naked and dirtied and still the closest thing to an angel in repose as Duncan has ever seen.

"Can I consider us even now?" he asks lazily, eyes opening to show the alertness his body lacks.

"Yes, you can go." Duncan lights a cigarette, sitting back against the headboard and startling only slightly when Roberto slinks into his lap.

"I'm not ready to go. Can I have some?" He stalls him when Duncan moves to grab the pack though; helps himself to the one he's already lit and takes a drag with his fingers fanned. "We can share."

Duncan, who was expecting the boy to be getting dressed and running off, is a bit surprised. Even more so when Roberto pillows himself against his body, tucking his cheek against his, their chests flush. Duncan can smell his shampoo.

"Don't you ever cuddle, Daddy?" he taunts softly.

"Not much cuddling in my line of work."

"You look like you need it."  
  
"More like you need a cigarette."

"I can need both. So can you."

"Smart mouth you have on you," Duncan comments mildly.

"Symptom of a smart brain."

"Too smart to keep finding yourself in these kinds of situations."

"Obviously not. I've no complaints, you did me a favor."

"The next man with a gun might not."

"I've survived this far." His eyes are sharp again.

Duncan hums. "Any other trouble?"

"Handled," Roberto murmurs. He gives Duncan a sleepy grin. "My guy already paid before you shot him. Or were you offering to resolve some other issue?"

Duncan considers. "If you ever need anything else, I think we could come to an arrangement."

He thinks Roberto looks surprised, or touched. Either way he hides it with a smirk. "Sounds like you wouldn't mind a repeat performance, Daddy."

"Duncan," he corrects. "Put me in your phone." He gives Roberto the number of a new burner he's just picked up, and Roberto dutifully types him into his contacts. "Consider that your tip."

Roberto bites his lip, then smiles, a huff of laughter escaping him.

"All right. Duncan, huh?" He looks at him when he's saved it; presses call so the phone buzzes somewhere on the floor in Duncan's pocket. "So you can call if _you_ need _me_." He steals the cigarette one last time, then stretches. "Mind if I shower before I leave?"

Duncan hesitates, and Roberto puts the cigarette back in his mouth.

"You can come with me, and I can lick some other parts of you."

Duncan chuckles, "I'm not as young as you, you know."

"Could make it a long shower, and I'm not opposed to being licked either."

Duncan stubs out the cigarette in an ashtray. "How can I resist?"

"Good question," Roberto whispers, leaning in to kiss him again, finally.

Duncan he knows right then that he'll be using the number he's been given.


End file.
